


Turning and Returning

by boasamishipper



Category: Top Gun (1986)
Genre: Banter, Confessions, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Oneshot, Pillow Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-23 22:26:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19160218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boasamishipper/pseuds/boasamishipper
Summary: It’s not always dramatic. Sometimes it's simple.





	Turning and Returning

“So,” Maverick says once he’s done catching his breath. “This was fun.”

It’s not an apt description, not at all. If sleeping with Ice the first time around had been good, then every time after is better than the last — especially now that they’ve entered a real relationship, one where Maverick can stay the night, kiss Ice all he wants and stop pining from afar.

Ice glances over at him, looking distinctly amused and unamused at the same time, the way that only he can. “Ringing endorsement, Mitchell,” he says dryly, like he hadn’t just spent the last several minutes making Maverick come undone completely. “You’re eloquent after you come, aren’t you.”

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe later.”

“Anyway,” Maverick says, not because he can’t think of a comeback but because he has a point to make. “This was great, but I’m thinking next time…” He drops his voice, making it low and seductive. “Maybe we could...try something different.”

Ice doesn’t even twitch. “I’m not interested in acting out one of your sexual fantasies, Maverick.”

“No, Ice, listen, this is a good one.” How the hell had he guessed so fast? “Imagine for a second that you’re an admiral and I’m a captain—”

Ice’s eyebrows shoot up so high that they’re in danger of disappearing beneath his hair. “What idiot made you a captain, Mitchell?”

“Shut up, Kazansky, this is my fantasy—”

“And why in pluperfect hell am I an admiral?”

“Because then we can pretend that I’m stationed on another carrier or something and we don’t get to see each other very often.” Ice’s expression is so disbelieving that Maverick flounders for a better explanation. “You know, the whole absence makes the heart grow fonder thing. You like that romantic shit.”

“You…put some thought into this.”

Maverick offers up his most winning smile. “Enough thought to make you want to give it a try?”

Silence. Then, “You just want me to call you Captain Mitchell in bed, don’t you.”

“Hey, all I’m saying is I wouldn’t hate it,” Maverick says. “Admiral Kazansky.”

Ice presses his lips together. After a moment, Maverick realizes that he’s trying very hard not to laugh.

“Fine,” Maverick says. “We’re tabling this idea until you can keep a straight face.”

“Oh, like you could do any better.” Ice rolls his eyes and turns, positioning himself so he’s propped up directly over Maverick, their noses nearly touching. “Captain Mitchell,” he says, his voice so serious that for a moment Maverick actually thinks they might be at war. “Are you prepared to engage…in intercourse?”

Maverick can’t help it: the combination of Ice’s serious tone and grave expression two inches from his face make him snort, which quickly turns into full-blown laughter the second that Ice loses his composure too.

Once they’re done laughing Ice pulls him in for a kiss, an open, genuine smile tugging at his mouth when he draws back. The same smile he always wears around Maverick. “Who can’t keep a straight face now?”

“Okay, so it sounded better in my head,” Maverick allows. “Though I’ll be honest, I was expecting more build-up. Something cool and dramatic, like, ‘Captain Mitchell, are you prepared to engage in the battle of our lives?’”

“That’s terrible.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll leave the dramatic stuff to you. It’s more your style.”

“Says the man who sang _You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling_ as a pick-up line,” Ice retorts, which — yeah, that’s fair. He shifts back so Maverick can have a little space, returning to his side of the bed. “Anyways, I’m not always dramatic. Sometimes my style’s more simple.”

“Yeah?” Maverick snorts, ready for the punchline. This ought to be good. “Like when?”

“Like now,” Ice says. “I love you.”

Wait. What?

For a moment, all Maverick can do is stare. Ice had said it like it was a fact, like it was completely indisputable, and even though his expression is as impassive as ever — or rather as impassive as it is when they’re not in the bedroom — his shoulders tense imperceptibly, like he’s bracing himself for the worst. Like he’s worried Maverick won’t take the admission well.

Ice loves him. Him, Pete Mitchell, callsign Maverick; reckless, impulsive behavior and stupid jokes and survivor’s guilt and all.

Ice _loves_ him.

“Just thought I’d tell you,” Ice is saying. His voice is quieter than normal. “You don’t have to say it back. Not if you don’t want to.”

Maverick recognizes that Ice is giving him an out, but — and the realization makes his stomach swoop more than a 4G negative dive ever could — he doesn’t want to take it. He does want to say it back. To act otherwise would be dishonest, and Maverick can be dishonest with a lot of people, but not Ice. Never Ice.

And since when is he afraid to take a risk?

“I do,” he says. His heart is hammering against his ribs so loudly that he’s sure Ice can hear it, and he pushes his nerves aside. “I do want to. I love you too.”

He’s close enough that he can see Ice‘s sharp intake of breath. Then Ice is on top of him again, kissing him long and slow and sweet. When he pulls back, Maverick only has a few seconds to catch his breath before Ice cups his face in his hands. “Say it again,” he orders, and Maverick complies.

“I love you, Ice.” The words send an odd little thrill through him — maybe because of the way Ice smiles when he says it, or maybe because of just how fucking much he means it. He loves Ice. He really, really does. And somehow, he had done something to deserve Ice’s love in return. Speaking of… “How long have you been sitting on that?”

“I plead the Fifth.”

Maverick rolls his eyes, because it’s always good to know he’s not the only one in this relationship capable of being a little shit, but he doesn’t really care. Ice can keep his secrets. All he wants right now is to hear Ice say it back. “Say it again.”

“What, that I plead the Fifth?”

“Fuck you, Kazansky, you know what I meant. The important thing.”

“Our constitutional rights are important, Maverick,” Ice says, sounding exactly like his high school history teacher, which would have ruined the moment if she hadn’t been hot too. He’s ready to start pouting — actually pouting, like he’s a fucking child or something — when Ice finally relents and kisses him, just for a second. Then he says, “I love you, Mav.”

It comes out soft, earnest in a way Ice usually isn’t, each word carefully measured. No one had ever said it to him like that before. Not even Charlie. This feels like a beginning, not the beginning of the end.

Maverick tugs Ice back in for another kiss, his heart so full of love for the man before him that he could explode from the weight of it, and the conversation that follows they don’t need any words for.


End file.
